Spells (Bayou Magic 2)

Which is exactly as it should be.

“And don’t judge me about it. Oh, and if I do come home with Lucien, don’t judge me for that, either.” I glance down at my cat and see her eyes narrowed. “I’m an adult woman, and if I want to have sex, I will. And something tells me that sex with Lucien will be off the damn charts.”

I walk over to the dresses and choose the deep red one with the flowy sleeves and a V-neck that plunges to the center of my breasts. With this bra, my cleavage is impressive.

I slip into the silk and twirl in front of the mirror, pleased with my decision.

“The feelings I have for him are strong,” I admit. “I know now that it’s probably because our souls have been linked for so many years, but it was unnerving to be seventeen and, with one look, know that I was born to be with him. And, of course, I’m a stubborn person, so I fought it for what seems like forever. But you know what, Sanguine?”

I turn and see her watching me intently.

“I don’t want to fight it anymore. It feels too good to be with him. And now we can move forward together. Because as crazy as it might sound, I’m ready to share my life with him.”

I run a brush through my long hair and stare at myself in the mirror.

“And it’s our first date.” I can’t help but laugh. “Well, no one ever accused me of being ordinary, so I guess my love life shouldn’t be either.”

I don’t usually wear a lot of makeup, but tonight I take my time with my eyes, giving them just a bit of a smokiness and then smooth red lipstick on my lips.

I slip my feet into black boots with a chunky heel because I have a hunch we’ll be walking a bit, and heels won’t work for that in or around New Orleans.

That reminds me. I need to walk down to Head Over Heels next week and ask Charly if she’d like a booth at the Halloween street party this year.

I make a mental note and then turn to Sanguine with my hands out at my sides.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Meow.”

“Thank you.” The doorbell rings, and butterflies immediately fill my stomach. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. There’s no need to be.”

I grab my black shawl for when it gets cool after dark, along with my black clutch, and hurry down the steps. When I open the door, the words I was about to say die on my lips, and I can only stare at the beautiful man in front of me.

His brown hair is tamed and styled away from his face. His dark glasses frame his intense blue eyes, and his square jaw has recently been shaved.

But what his body does to the white button-down and sport coat he’s wearing is most likely illegal. His legs are long and showcased in a pair of dark slacks, and I have a moment of pure female satisfaction when he takes a long perusal of me, looking from head to toe and has to swallow hard before speaking.

“You’re a damn vision, Millicent.”

“Thank you. You look pretty fabulous yourself.” I back up so he can come inside and notice the flowers in his hand for the first time.

“These are for you.”

I can’t believe it. Lucien didn’t bring me roses or tulips. He brought forget-me-nots.

“How did you know that these are my favorite?”

He gives me a look like really?

“Did you know there’s an old wives’ tale that says these flowers can protect people from witches?” I laugh as I carry the bouquet to the kitchen to quickly put them in some fresh water.

“Of course,” he says. “They were planted all over Salem. Never affected me.”

I smirk and pet a soft petal. “I love this color. It’s happy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He plants a kiss on my bare shoulder, right next to the silk of my dress. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in all of my lifetimes.”

I made the right choice. “Good.” I turn to him and kiss him lightly. “That was the goal. Now, I hope you’re planning to feed me, because I’m starving.”

“I have a reservation at Café Amalie.”

“Excellent. That’s my favorite place.”

“I asked Brielle where I should take you.”

“At least that’s one thing you don’t already know about me.”

“The restaurants in the Quarter were vastly different a hundred years ago,” he says with a laugh, and I just stand and stare at him.

“Were we here a hundred years ago?”

His face turns serious, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yes. And if you don’t want me to speak of those things, I’ll stop. I don’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable. It’s just nice to be able to talk about it a bit. I’ve never been able to before.”